What the fuck did I do wrong to get myself into this unbelievable mess? Klaus thought as he unbuttoned the lower part of his shirt.

Should he blame the Alphabet? Yes, his slow-witted gang of incompetent misfits had acted true to style, messing up what ought to have been a simple enough mission. However, he was - much to his chagrin - their superior. Whatever they did they could only do because he allowed them.

He wanted to blame Lawrence. That would have felt really good, all things considered. Oh yes! Normally to blame Lawrence would have been accomplished with frightening ease. The Chief would even have backed him up! For once in a blue moon he and Fatso actually agreed on something: that the British agent ought to be kept locked up in a loony bin. The man wasn't even fit to oversee a group of Girl Scouts! However, the snag in this particular case, which kept Klaus from blaming Lawrence, was that the man currently made life unsafe for civilians back home in England. Amazingly, not even his special brand of incompetence reached all the way to Latanirth.

The Chief? Well, truth be told, Klaus really couldn't blame Fatso. The mission itself was straightforward enough; he had plenty of information and all possible backing, not just from the Alphabet, but he even had local authorities cooperating. That was really all the Chief could be asked to do.

No, in the end he only had himself to blame. His mission; his screw up; his request for assistance; his ... failure.

For he couldn't blame the curly-haired blond who, eyes wide and intent like those of a man about to be granted his fondest wish, followed each movement of his hands as he pushed back his shirt, undid his belt and reached for his fly.

** D/K ** D/K ** D/K **

A simple enough mission, yes. Go to Latanirth and find out if the Crown Prince really nurtured neo-Nazi tendencies. Prince Erik was the current ruler's nephew and the apple of his mother's eye. The sister-pecked King Anders II of Latanirth dared not deal with the issue personally, but had granted Klaus carte blanche to do whatever necessary, if only the situation was dealt with silently and caused no hint of scandal.

He had started right away by putting A-H to good use running around gathering information, I-K trailing the Crown Prince, L and M guarding the King, and so on. They had been making progress, for NATO's sake! A lead here, a name there, a swastika spotted there - all added up, slowly painting an ugly image of corruption and treachery. Nothing that could be proven yet, though. Hard evidence would be necessary to convince the King to leave his sister's son in the cool hands of Lady Justice. Klaus's gut feeling didn't count. Inconvenient, that.

Crown Prince Erik lived in the capital, though not in the same palace as His Highness the King. His place of residence, as befitted a prince of the blood, was a veritable fortress. Had the King had more balls Klaus could have just stalked inside, demanding the right to search the place. As things were his hands were tied. The Chief had been very specific that their target must suspect nothing up until they could initiate a nationwide bust and that King Anders II must be kept happy. So, Klaus had to get in some other way - i.e. he had to break into the sodding place.

Which proved a far more difficult task than Klaus first had assumed. He did have, after all, some knowledge of how to gain entrance undetected - he had penetrated the Tehran palace, hadn't he? Only the Prince Mother, Princess Malin, seemed to be a right paranoid bint, insisting on some of the toughest defences Klaus had ever encountered.

Six days later, when neither he nor any of his agent had come up with a viable plan, Klaus had gotten desperate. Desperate enough to take a detour to Great Britain in order to enlist an expert.

** D/K ** D/K ** D/K **

"Help you? Darling! Of course! I'd be happy to! You know I would do anything for you!"

** D/K ** D/K ** D/K **

Dorian sat in the small corner assigned to him, watching in annoyance as Klaus ordered his Alphabet around, running the poor things ragged. Do that, do this: never a moment's peace.

And in this horrid heat!

Sweat beaded on Dorian's forehead and ran down his back and sides - it even moistened the cloth under his thighs for heaven's sake! He felt a little woozy-headed too, which he suspected was due to the inexpertly cooked dinner. Something had definitely been wrong with that chicken. Fowl just wasn't supposed to be that ... slick inside.

He had had a headache for most of the day. A truly wicked one, bordering on migraine. Part due to the sultry heat; part due to being awakened at an ungodly hour - seven o'clock! - and then being forced to spend eight hours in a cramped car during the worst of the beating sunshine. He hadn't even been allowed to go in the same car as Klaus! No, instead he had been pushed into a tiny Nissan together with G and B - G, who nattered constantly, and B, who was so ... well ... certainly nothing to rest his eyes on, like Klaus at least would have been. Not a good start to his day.

Not to mention that Klaus had flatly refused to let him bring along a single one of his gang members! James he could well understand - the small accountant and Klaus had had some bad dealings in the past. To be totally honest Dorian kind of preferred not to have James along, even if the man no doubt would have revelled in the current hardship. But he hadn't even been allowed to bring Bonham! And Klaus "liked" Bonham - in so far Klaus liked anyone not a German NATO agent.

For the last four days there had not been a single thing for him to do as they awaited an opportunity and - just to top things off - Klaus was being rude to him! He called him all sorts of names, almost as if trying to bait him! Maybe the heat was getting even to Iron Klaus for all the man's dratted "heat and cold is just a matter of discipline"-mantra?

What he said about me dropping a penny down my trousers to have sex with James was definitely uncalled for! That was just plain horrible of him! I should ... Why, I should leave, yes, I should!

He actually felt like leaving. Just take his things - the very few things that Klaus had grudgingly allowed him to bring - and go. Really, what was it that kept him there? Klaus "needing" him? Ha! One does not treat a needed and valuable ally the way Klaus treated him! He was neither a servant nor a bloody henchman!

It is way past time that Herr High And Mighty learned that! Dorian thought and massaged his aching temples. He ought to value me and all I can do for him! He should be courting me, not the other way around!

Yes, he was even getting kind of tired of pursuing the man when it seemed plain that he would never give in to Dorian's enticements. Maybe it was just the current hardship - why, he hadn't been able to either shower or even wash his hair in three days! - but Dorian felt as if things were coming to a head. It was time to make a difficult decision.

I really ought to teach him that he can't just order me around like he does the Alphabet!

The more he considered the possibility, the more alluring it appeared.

He really should be more respectful, at the very least! Ha! Offering me money as if I'm some ... some whore! As if I care for money for any other reason than to keep myself in style - and to keep James happy, of course! Ha!

And slowly, an idea occurred to him. At first it felt positively scandalous, but the more he thought about it, the better it sounded.

I shall put my foot down! He will have to make it really worth my while this time! Oh yes! Oh, for the look in his eyes when I tell him that I want ... hmm ... a kiss. Yes! A kiss! Just one nice, sweet, little kiss. I won't even demand tongue or anything.

Then he frowned. Oh, but he'll do his best to ruin it, of course, that ornery donkey of a man. He'll spit afterwards, no doubt, and disinfect his mouth as if he could get cooties or whatnot. Ha! He should count himself lucky that I don't demand a blowjob! He'll act like I've tried to rape him anyway. What does he know of rape? Ha!

A kiss it would be or Klaus could look to the moon for Dorian's help in breaking into the palace.

** D/K ** D/K ** D/K **

Kiss him? Fucking kiss him? Klaus just stared at the brass-balled bugger for a few seconds, narrowing his eyes for best effect. Zur Hölle damit, he seems serious. He shook his head, then growled, "I'll give you a kiss all right - with my knuckles."

The Earl pulled himself up straighter and folded his arms. They were alone in the big meeting room, door locked for the conversation.

"Not good enough. A kiss or I'm out of here. I've had it, Major, with this attitude of yours and this heat and this ... this bad excuse for a safe house! It's ridiculous! I should be at the Ascot this very minute! And you wouldn't even let me bring Bonham!"

"I explained to you--"

"You did not! You grunted something about there not being room on the boat - yet I counted no less than nine Alphabets on that little trip. One of them could have stayed!"

"They're all trained agents! I only need one thief and you certainly don't need some handmaid to take care of you!"

"Oh, you're impossible! I want a kiss or I will leave! See if I don't!"

"Ha! So that's how far your 'I love you forever, no matter what, I'd do anything for you's went! A bit of bad weather, a bed not soft enough for die Prinzessin auf der Erbse and you're off!"

"Oh Major! Now you're trying to blackmail me! I do love you! And I do love you no matter what! But 'no matter what' does not mean having to put up with this ... this nightmare of a mission! And you're being a right berk to me! You're treating me like a servant! I'm not! I'm a valuable ally! You should treat me as such!"

Tired of the fuss, Klaus rubbed his temples. Perhaps it is time? he asked himself. Might as well get it over with.

He wasn't even sure why he had held off from doing it for as long as he had. I should have done it the first time we met.

Well ... Maybe not the very first time they met, that would have been a little ... extreme.

In Rome, then, as soon as I got him alone in the forest. Threatening to blow his head off never helped anyway. I should have done it then, just after he told me that he--

"I'll do something else," he said, his mind finally made up. "If you give me your word that you will follow through on the break-in."

"Oh? So now my word is good enough for you, when you want something from me? I thought you told A I was an immoral--"

"Your word! I will trust it. And if you break it I won't tell Interpol - one morning you simply won't wake up. Understood?"

For once the threat seemed to actually penetrate the mop of hair that no doubt insulated the fop's brain. Good. Not that it kept him silent for more than a few seconds.

"Nice try, major, but I'm not giving you any blank promises. What's this 'something else' you mentioned? A handshake just won't do, you know. Not unless you intend to shake my--" The fop broke off whatever he had intended to say and instead cleared his throat loudly. "So, what do you propose?"

Having decided to go through with what he had so often considered doing was strangely liberating. He felt a hint nervous, yet certain that the right time had come.

"If you give me your word; if you promise; if you take an oath on whatever you hold holy that you will stay and do the break-in for us. Tonight if possible, otherwise as soon as we can pull it off. If you do that I will ... undress for you."

The Earl's mouth fell open. Only for a second, though. Then his lips moved soundlessly for a few more, before his eyes narrowed. "Undress? Specify exactly how you mean. Removing your shoes does not constitute undressing. Neither does removing socks, jacket, belt or gloves. To take off your shirt doesn't count either, not if you're wearing an undershirt. I want details and I don't intend to let you dupe me."

Klaus nearly rolled his eyes. "I will do it now, beforehand, so you can decide when enough's enough for you not to feel ... duped. Well? It's a one time offer. Do you want it or not?"

He could all but hear the cog wheels turn as the Earl searched for hidden traps. Then the man's frown smoothed out. "You're trying to scare me away, aren't you? It's about that scar of yours. I have seen it, you know, so you don't have to-- Um ... I mean, ah ... I didn't get a very good look, so do feel free to go ahead. Do undress. Don't let me stop you. Really don't let me stop you." His eyes started to gleam faintly - or perhaps that was just Klaus's imagination.

"Your word first. You will get us into Crown Prince Erik's quarters with enough time to search them and then out again."

"Fine, so I'll do it. I'll even ... I'll even keep teeth to tongue and not complain about D's smelling of camel any longer. See? I'll be good. What are you going to take off first?"

"I thought it would be easiest to just drop my trousers. Your word - now!"

"Your trou-- Oh ... Um. My-- Oh. Yes. Major von dem Eberbach, I - Lord Dorian Red Gloria, Earl of Gloria, also known as Eroica - hereby solemnly swear that I will give you any assistance I am capable of to get you and the men of your choosing into the palace and out again, tonight or at any time you desire, until your mission is either accomplished or abandoned. I am yours to command. Will you really start by taking off your trousers?"

"I'll just have to unbutton my shirt first," Klaus replied. Then he reached down to tug said shirt out of said trousers.

While contemplating who he could rightfully blame for the mess he found himself in, Klaus nevertheless made swift work of unbuttoning the lower half of his shirt, then undoing his belt and trouser button before unzipping his fly. With his narrow hips and flat stomach there was little to hold the cloth up, so it was easy work to push the fabric down, until it pooled around his knees.

"Um ..."

"What?" Klaus asked quickly, caught between his inbred modesty and the act of pushing down his white boxers in front of a man who had often enough expressed an interest in getting inside them. A few seconds of distraction seemed like a good idea.

"Never let it be said that I'm one to question your technique, dear, but ... if you had removed your shoes first it might be a bit simpler to actually remove your trousers now."

He snorted. "You will survive not having seen my hairy calves, Herr Dieb. Actually, once you've seen what I want to show you, I think you won't care overmuch." Then he reached for the boxers again.

"But your scar is on your--"

Left shoulder. Yes. A rather nasty work, from a bullet that had left a far larger hole going out than it had going in. He had been lucky to get out of that mess with his arm still fully functioning. The beauty aspect had never bothered him much, as long as the wound hadn't crippled him. However, by the Brit's own admission, he had seen it and hadn't seemed overly put off by it. Which actually surprised Klaus somewhat. Perhaps he even could have considered it a positive sign, but he knew the scar to be just a bucket in the ocean compared to ... the other thing.

"Take a good look, Herr Gloria," he offered curtly. Then he pushed down his boxers.

He saw the man's eyes rivet to the exposed area, then how he blinked and blinked again, gaze darting around. How his mouth once more fell open, before closing with a clack of teeth. Only to open yet again.

"B-but ..."

The blue eyes still shifted around. Alternatively he stared and looked elsewhere. The air on Klaus's naked skin felt cold, even though, considering the tropical heat, it really couldn't be.

"I'm not excited at the moment," he stated - though that ought to be rather glaringly obvious. "It doesn't get particularly bigger even when I am."

Blinking. Shifting eyes. A slight blush. Stuttering.

"Well? Are you going to stare at my crotch all day?"

"Um ... I ... That is ... B-but it's ... Your trousers, they ... I ... I mean ... T-they don't look ... um ... I ..."

"The bulge is mostly in the fabric. I suspect Herr Hinkel does it on purpose." Of course the butler knew. The condition had been suspected since shortly after his birth, though it was always hoped for that he would simply grow out of it during puberty. He hadn't. Not very much, anyway. "I trust you have seen enough?"

"I ... I mean I ... I-I have ... Yes. I ... Um ..."

"Still feel duped? I don't doubt it. Not about the clothes, though." He reached down again, this time to pull up his boxers, covering himself. As no protest followed, he continued with the trousers, arranging his shirt inside them, then buttoned up and fastened his belt. Only then did he look towards the Earl. The man still stared towards his now clothed groin. "Hello? Did I break you? Lord Gloria?"

"T-that was a--" Slowly the vivid, blue eyes rose, now even wider. "Y-you have a--"

"Micropenis? When erect I have achieved a length of just under 6 centimeters, so yes."

"But... I ... That is, I don't ... I didn't ..." The Earl's hands fluttered about, then one of them landed on his mouth.

"Know? Now you do. Surprise." And now let's see how far those 'I love you forever no matter what'-promises go. Not very far, Klaus would have bet. Which had been why he had tried his best to ensure that at least the current mission would not be jeopardised. "And you promised to do the heist anyway."

"Heist? Heist?! How can you think of stealing something w-when-- That's ..."

"I'm used to it. It's not as if it's a sudden development. Well, Lord Gloria? What's it going to be?" The man might feel duped, but if he tried to dupe Klaus in turn, blood would flow.

** D/K ** D/K ** D/K **

The horrible image had bit hold of Dorian's brain like a killer dog, refusing to let go. As he staggered back to his little shed of a room he couldn't suppress a shudder. That stubby-looking penis, resting on Klaus's large, fuzzy balls, almost ... almost toy-like in appearance. Duped? Why, yes, he felt duped. He wanted to leave that very minute, head straight back home and forget he ever saw ... that. But he would stay. He had given his word, hadn't he? And while his morals might be somewhat fluid when it came to things like the ownership of particular objects, well ... his word was his bond.

Then the image assaulted him again and he shuddered. I've never seen something so small on a grown man!

On a Greek statue was one thing. That was different. That was art. On a living, breathing human being it had just looked ... ridiculous!

And on Major von dem Eberbach! What a travesty! What a horrible waste!

He managed to walk straight past his door, ending up staring around the hallway in confusion before realising what he had done and turning back.

Thank God I found out before I actually got the man into bed,he thought while closing the door behind him. That would have been ... Oh, that would have been awful! He shuddered. Six centimeters when erect. That would be less than two and a half inch. That's not even a handful!

** D/K ** D/K ** D/K **

Long after that the Earl had left, Klaus stood in the middle of the room with his eyes closed. Finally he inhaled deeply and let the air out through his nostrils.

Well, it's not as if I expected him to react any better, he told himself sternly as he opened his eyes again.

Yet still ... A very small, vulnerable part of Klaus's heart had hoped for acceptance.

** D/K ** D/K ** D/K **

The break-in went perfectly according to plan. They found all the evidence they needed and the mission could go on to the next logical step. Some Alphabets later spoke amongst themselves, though, wondering what had kept the normally exorbitant Earl so sedate. None of them could recall him attempting to flirt with their superior even once! Perhaps he was feeling very ill?

** D/K ** D/K ** D/K **

Lord Dorian Red Gloria, Earl of Gloria, returned to Great Britain and the house of his ancestors. His men soon noticed a marked change in him: a return to his younger days, which was not necessarily for the better. In the latter years he had calmed considerably, becoming more clever and more discriminating in selecting both his targets and his beaux.

Oh, he had still held magnificent parties and his herd of admirers had certainly never thinned. However, ever since that fateful visit to a German Schloss he had come to invite someone back to his bedroom much less often. Now the traffic leading there increased again, as he laid down many a willing, handsome male.

And if Dorian ever again went to sleep to dream of sharp, green eyes, he repressed each such dream until he no longer remembered them.

** D/K ** D/K ** D/K **

Major von dem Eberbach, Iron Klaus, returned to West Germany and NATO Headquarters. His men noticed little change in him. He had always worked them hard and himself harder. Had he been a man wont to laughter and spreading happiness they might have noticed a more pronounced difference - but he wasn't and so they didn't. He chased his leads and he caught the enemy spies and he always accomplished his mission.

And if Klaus ever again went to sleep to dream of warm, blue eyes he certainly never told anyone.